Camila's fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the mahogany surface of her antique desk. Her eyes, reflecting a mix of hope and anxiety, flickered every few seconds to the silvery laptop that sat before her, its screen a blank canvas waiting to be splashed with news of her fate.
"Come on," she muttered under her breath, her tone a blend of command and entreaty.
Her long, dark hair shifted like silk shadows as she leaned closer to the screen, willing an email into existence. Despite her wealth and status, she could not buy her way into the design world's good graces; this was a battle she needed to win on merit alone.
"Patience, Camila," she chided herself in a whisper, her voice carrying that trademark sass that often intimidated or charmed, depending on her mood.
As if summo
